


Such An Angel with a Devilish Angle

by orphan_account



Category: Fall Out Boy, Gym Class Heroes
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-01
Updated: 2014-09-01
Packaged: 2018-02-15 16:45:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2236212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patrick is admittedly a little fucked up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Such An Angel with a Devilish Angle

Patrick is admittedly a little fucked up. He promised himself during the last stupid party Pete threw at Angels & Kings that he wouldn’t binge drink again, he wouldn’t put himself through the torture of the whiskey hangover that consumed him for a full 24 hours. Except Patrick is actually really bad about keeping promises to himself, so he stands at the bar shouting to the bartender over the shitty dance music for another Jack and Diet Coke.

He lost Pete about 45 minutes ago to Gabe, who wrapped his long arms around Pete’s frame and leaned in to mumble something that Patrick is _profoundly_ glad he couldn’t hear against Pete’s neck. Pete grinned and gave Gabe a little nod before being whisked away into the crowd of dancing people, leaving Patrick alone in his seat. 

Patrick is about halfway through sucking down his drink through a tiny, red straw when a hand claps down on his shoulder and a familiar voice says, “What’s up, P-Steezy?” 

“Hey, Travie,” Patrick laughs, coughing a little bit, “What’s up with you?” 

“Not much, man, just been keepin’ a low profile is all,” Travie says, leaning back against the bar and giving Patrick that easy grin that makes Patrick’s stomach flip nervously. 

Travis asks, “Where’s your partner in crime?” and Patrick grimaces, rolling his eyes and shrugging. 

“Gabe took him somewhere, but I’m not sure where, and I’m not sure I want to know.” 

Travie laughs and shrugs, saying, “So Pete left you all by yourself at the bar?” 

“You make me sound like a ditched prom date,” Patrick snorts, bringing the highball glass up to his lips and downing the rest of drink, wincing at the burn from the carbonation and the alcohol as it settles in his stomach. 

“Well, you’re sure drinkin’ like one.” Patrick turns and Travie still has that easy smile, his eyes flicking from the glass up to Patrick’s face. Patrick finds himself smiling back, the alcohol making his brain buzz and his body feel warm. Travie leans in close and murmurs, “Let’s get out of here, yeah?” and Patrick nods dumbly, allowing Travie to take his hand and weave themselves through the crowd until they stumble out into the cold night. The paparazzi have long since disbanded, leaving the two to flag down a cab in peace. 

Travie tells the driver they’re only making one stop and gives him the address to his New York apartment. There’s something in the back of Patrick’s mind telling him that this is a bad idea, but then Travie’s lacing their fingers together and giving him that stupid, reassuring smile and Patrick immediately stops caring about whatever the rational part of his brain is screaming at him. 

The cab driver pulls up to Travie’s apartment complex and Travie hands him way more money than the ride costs, telling him to keep the change while he tugs Patrick out onto the sidewalk. Patrick giggles when he stumbles and Travie wraps an arm around his waist to steady him, huffing a laugh and pressing a chaste kiss to Patrick’s temple. 

It takes Travie a few tries to get the building’s front door open, but he finally succeeds and they make their way up to his apartment, Patrick leaning against him, warm and secure in the elevator. 

“Sorry, it’s kind of a mess,” Travie says when they get inside, tossing his keys into the little bowl he keeps by the front door. He pulls his coat off, followed by his hoodie, and Patrick does the same, laying the garments over the back of the couch. Travie asks, “Do you want something to drink?” 

Patrick shakes his head, biting his lip in a way that makes Travie _want_ , and he cups Patrick’s face and presses a gentle to kiss to his lips, smiling when Patrick makes a surprised whine in the back of his throat. 

“Maybe...” Patrick breathes when Travie pulls away and touches their foreheads together, smiling, “maybe your bedroom might be…?”

“Yeah,” Travie nods, “yeah, let’s go.” 

Travie scoots back on the bed, grinning as Patrick crawls over him and kisses him with just a hint of force. Patrick tastes like top-shelf booze and artificial sweetener and Travie can’t help but lick up into his mouth, chasing the taste, and eliciting a soft moan from Patrick. 

Patrick makes quick work of ridding Travie of his shirt, tossing it carelessly to the floor and sliding his hands over his dark skin and toned muscles. Travie grins and leans in close, pressing a few kisses to Patrick’s neck before biting down and sucking hard while Patrick whimpers. 

“Wanna see you…” Travie mumbles against his skin, working his hands underneath Patrick’s t-shirt and pulling it up over his head. Patrick turns visibly pink, crossing his arms over his chest and hunching over to hide his body, but Travie just smiles and pulls his hands away, shaking his head. 

Travie runs his fingers through Patrick’s hair when he kisses him, nipping at his lower lip and gasping when Patrick starts palming at his cock through his jeans. 

“Fuck, Patrick,” he mumbles, arching slightly into the touch. Patrick glances up at him through his eyelashes and smirks. He moves off of Travie’s lap and slides down to work on unbuttoning Travie’s jeans. Travie lifts his hips up and Patrick pulls his jeans and his boxers down and completely off, laughing slightly as Travie kicks them off of the bed. 

Patrick spits into his hand and wraps his fingers around Travie’s cock. Travie hisses and bucks into his hand, throwing his head back and moaning when Patrick starts moving his hand at a painfully slow pace. He watches Travie squeeze his eyes shut and bite his lower lip and Patrick’s cock twitches in his pants. 

“Travie, Travie, look at me,” Patrick says, voice low, sending shivers down Travie’s spine. He forces himself to open his eyes and look down at the blonde singer jerking him off. “I want you,” Patrick mumbles, pressing sloppy kisses to Travie’s thighs, “Want you to fuck me,” and _fuck_ if Travie’s going to ignore that request. 

“Yeah, fuck yeah,” he responds breathily, “c’mon, get up, Patrick.” 

Patrick pulls off his own pants and briefs and kicks them away while Travie rummages through his bedside drawer for a condom and a bottle of lube. 

“Fuck,” he mumbles, “I can’t find a fucking condom.” 

“Fuck the condom,” Patrick responds impatiently, leaning up to kiss Travie desperately, “C’mon, it’s fine, we don’t need it.” 

It’s a magnificent sight to behold when Patrick is laid out in front of Travie, legs spread and cock lying heavy against his stomach. 

“You look so good like this, baby,” Travie grins and Patrick blushes and flips him off. 

“Shut up and fuck me,” Patrick mumbles, smacking Travie’s arm lightly. 

Travie opens up the bottle of lube and spreads a generous amount on his fingers. He presses a quick kiss to Patrick’s thigh as he pushes his middle finger in. Patrick bites his lip and nods at Travie, assuring him that it’s good, he’s good. 

“C’mon, Trav, more, _please_ ,” Patrick says. Travie pushes a second finger in and, _oh_ , there’s definitely more of a burn now. Patrick wills his body to relax, focuses on the warm kisses that Travie’s planting all over his thighs. 

Eventually, he nods at Travie and hisses when a third finger is added and Travie moves them in and out experimentally. 

“Is that good?” Travie asks and Patrick nods quickly, his eyes glazed and mouth open as he looks down at Travie. 

“Yes, yes, so fucking good.” 

Travie pulls his fingers out after a minute and grabs the bottle of lube again to rub over his cock before pressing against Patrick and pushing in slowly. Patrick groans and arches his back and Travie leans down and kisses him gently. 

It’s been a while since Patrick has had sex and Travie is definitely on the bigger side of the guys he’s been with. At some point, Patrick stops him and grits out “Just need a minute,” through his teeth and Travie nods and kisses his neck while Patrick adjusts. 

“Okay, you can move.” Travie pushes into him until he’s all the way in and Patrick gasps at the feeling of being so full. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Travie groans, steadying himself and pulling back out all the way. Patrick whimpers at the loss and groans loudly when Travie pushes back in, in one swift motion. 

Everything after that is simply amazing. Travie fucks Patrick with a steady and sure rhythm, increasing his pace slightly when Patrick asks. He manages to hit Patrick’s prostate a few times, eliciting loud moans and babbling nonsense from the blonde. Patrick wraps his hand around his own cock and starts to jerk himself off in time with Travie’s thrusts, moaning when he feels the heat coil in his abdomen. 

“Fuck, fuck, I’m gonna come, Trav.” A few seconds later, Patrick’s spilling over his fist and onto his stomach, his toes curling into the sheets as he mumbles swear words to himself. 

Travie comes about a minute later and Patrick can feel the sticky warmth inside of him. Travie pulls out his softening cock with a wince and falls back next to Patrick on the bed, breathing heavily. 

“Shit, that was...that was good,” Travie breathes, grinning sleepily at Patrick. 

“Of course it was. It’s always good with you. But next time, we’re definitely using a condom,” Patrick says, grimacing at the stickiness he feels when he shifts. Travie laughs and mumbles an agreement, rolling on his side to sneak an arm around Patrick’s waist. 

“We’re getting breakfast in the morning,” he mumbles against Patrick’s hair, “We’re both gonna be hungover as fuck.”


End file.
